


The Price For A Wish

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [15]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deaf Clint Barton, Death, Domestic Violence, Gen, Injury, Loss of Parent(s), Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Clint is 8 years old when his father dies.For one second, he feels nothing but relief. But then, they tell him that Mom is dead, too, and it takes the ground away from under his feet.*+~Part 15 of my Bad Things Happen BingoSquare: "Be careful what you wish for"
Relationships: Barney Barton & Clint Barton
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701046
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	The Price For A Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> so, because I love a good writing challenge, I'm now taking a part in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/  
> Please mind the tags!
> 
> I'm cross-posting this to my tumblr, https://banashee.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my fifteenth square: "Be careful what you wish for".

****

**The Price For A Wish**

Clint is 5 years old when he wishes for the first time that his father wasn't there. He doesn’t wish him dead, because he hasn’t been pushed that far yet, but… If Dad just didn’t exist in the first place… He knows that Mom and Barney and he would live a much happier life. 

His face is hot, both from the slap and the effort of holding back tears - he knows from experience that crying will always make it worse, so even at this young age, he has learned to hold back. His wrist is throbbing, too.

Clint doesn’t check the damage beneath his sleeve, but he knows that by the time he wakes up in the morning, it’ll be swollen, blue and sore.

He is afraid to move, afraid to make a sound and alert Dad again - he wishes for him to stay away. Maybe, if Clint is lucky, Dad is already too drunk to get up again, and he’ll be able to sleep for a while without having to fear him barging in. 

From the next bed over, Barney is whispering something to him, but it’s quiet enough for him to ignore - his brother may be bigger, stronger and older, but he’s just as scared of Dad, even when he won’t admit it out loud anymore. 

Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding, Clint curls up tight under his blanket, still shaking but slowly drifting off to sleep.

*+~

Clint is 7 years old when he wishes, really, _really_ wishes for the first time that his father was dead. At this point, he cannot remember any of the few and far good moments with Harold Barton, and all he ever sees is fear and pain - hatred.

His father looks at him in disgust now, as if it was Clint’s own fault he can’t hear right anymore, when it was Harold himself who is very much responsible for it. But then again, he always likes to blame other people for anything and everything. 

The only good thing, Clint thinks to himself, as he sits high up in a tree with his book and homework spread out on the branch he’s perching at and a slightly higher one in front of him, the only good thing about this is that now he doesn’t have to hear the insults thrown his way anymore. On the flipside, Clint will often miss the tell tale of heavy footsteps that usually give him enough time to scramble away and hide until Dad is too drunk to move or he’s fallen asleep in his armchair. 

Barney will warn him whenever he’s close enough (or when it suits him) but Clint can’t rely on that. 

His brother is still a big help - he’s the only one in the family who’s bothered to learn ASL with him, after all.

Dad is not interested, Mom is too tired. Too tired, too sad, too busy trying to keep the family together somehow. 

But yes. Clint lies awake at night, wishing his father was dead. 

He is clutching the battered stuffed dog that he rescued out of a trash can in his arms. It’s missing an eye and one of the legs hangs on by a thread and it’s stuffing is almost falling out of a hole in it’s stomach. But Clint loves it dearly, and he hides it away as a treasured possession, out of fear it will be taken from him - apparently being almost 8 is too old to have toys, according to Dad. But then again, Dad is always angry, no matter what.

Clint clutches his stuffed dog in the dark and feverishly hopes for his father to drop dead soon - he’s done. So very done.

He’s not even ashamed of these thoughts, but he is smart enough not to tell anyone.

*+~

Clint is 8 years old when his father dies.

For one second, he feels nothing but relief. But then, they tell him that Mom is dead, too, and it takes the ground away from under his feet. 

He puts on a brave face when the lady in the suit explains it to him and Barney, puts on a brave face when she leads them out of the house with two police officers flanking them. They leave with nothing but the clothes on their bodies and two trash bags that contain clothes and some of the few things important to them. 

But as soon as they finally leave him alone, Clint feels like he’s falling apart. This time, Barney is right there, hugging him tightly and it feels like he’s crying, too. It’s just the two of them - they don’t have anyone else, and so they stick together. 

That first night, they sleep wrapped around each other for the first time in well over a year - Barney stopped offering some time ago, claiming they’d be too old for it and only babies would need someone to hold their hand while asleep. Clint had suspected, even back then, that this was more Dad than Barney talking, but the result remained the same. 

Now though, they share the small bed with the scratchy sheets and limp pillows, holding each other through the pain of being completely lost.

On the day of the funeral, the two brothers sit in the first row of benches and hold each others hand. Barney’s grip is painfully strong and Clint can’t feel his fingers anymore. He squeezes back as hard as he can though, but doesn’t say anything. It’s hard enough to keep his emotions in check.

The relief over Dad being dead and gone forever is overshadowed from the pain of losing Mom, too.

‘ _This is my fault’_ Clint thinks over and over again. If he hadn’t wished for Dad to go away, Mom would still be here - he’s sure of that. 

If he had any grown-ups in his life who actually give a shit, if he actually had someone he could trust and talk to about these things, they would tell him that none of it is his fault and that loss and death don’t work that way.

But there isn’t anyone but Barney, and even though he is four years older, he is just as lost as Clint, and he doesn’t want to hear a word about it. Barney doesn’t believe in the power of wishes, anyway.

“Be careful what you wish for!” the adults around them kept saying, and Clint never really took it seriously, never really understood. But now, as he stares at the heavy lids of the two wooden coffins with burning eyes and a heavy heart, he feels responsible.

Part of him wants to get up from the bench while the priest is still talking. He can’t make out the words, anyway - maybe that is a good thing. Clint doesn’t believe in god, and most of all, doesn’t believe that anyone here even knew either of his parents. So why would he want to listen to their empty words?

Part of him wants to walk over and kick Dad’s coffin, because his drinking destroyed everything. Maybe, if he’d been a better father, Clint wouldn’t have had to wish him dead. Maybe, just maybe, then Mom would still be there. 

No one is around to tell him that this is not the case, but after all, he is only 8 and his heart has been broken far too many times in his short life. So he wholeheartedly believes it and refuses to utter a single word about it. 

Clint wants to throw up, scream, cry and crawl into the coffin with Mom, just to hug her one more time but he knows he can’t. That thought alone is nearly enough to break him, and it’s all he can do to grab his brothers hand even harder than before, something he didn’t think was possible. 

The scenery blurs in front of him and Clint is ashamed, but he is well practised in crying without a sound - better not pull any attention to himself. Barney squeezes his hand, but he keeps his eyes glued to the front of the room, jaw clenched shut in the stoic way that is so much him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Clint wants to say but doesn’t - he thinks that Barney wouldn’t want to hear it - he tells him to shut up often enough as it is. Even when he signs instead of talking - he’s starting to think that this is his fault, too. 

But he isn’t brave enough to bring it up, too afraid that he’ll lose his brother as well. 

Clint doesn’t wish for much after that day. 

Some days he does, wishing for changes, but he always regrets it afterward. Anytime he wishes for something, fate will take something else, rip anything good away from him and twists his wishes into nightmares that he can’t escape. 

Clint doesn’t wish for anything else after that. He doesn’t dare, not for years, well into his adulthood. 

He knows the price for wishes now, and he is not willing to pay that price ever again. 

  
  


*+~

Square: "Be careful what you wish for"

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings!
> 
> \- Child abuse and related trauma  
> \- Child neglect  
> \- Child abuse through parent  
> \- violence / injuries  
> \- death  
> \- death of parents  
> \- funeral  
> \- self blame / unhealthy coping  
> \- dark thoughts of a child  
> \- alchol / alcoholism


End file.
